Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes
by Curiosity
Summary: 15 years later, Jareth is by no means through with the Williams family. Complete!
1. Default Chapter

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Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes

Prologue:

On an unearthly hour that should never have existed,

In an arcane realm where night reigned supreme and magic was tangible,

A place where anything seemed possible and naught was as it seemed-

There, a battle was fought for the soul of a child, 

and a girl's heart was tainted by a King's dark seduction. 

He let her leave, not without scars, but the child would forever bear 

the mark of His touch.

Did the girl really win? 

No- the evil within that she could not deny threatened to destroy her, so she fled- 

unable to bear a resemblance that grew with each passing year. 

But what of the child, and the connection that bound him to one he knew not? 

His intrigue with the dark has awakened within him a desire for something- 

something more... 

A need for power? Control? 

Affected by something he can neither explain nor ignore, he searches for fulfillment, 

yet finds none.

For the Goblin King's final checkmate against his former adversary has only begun...


	2. Chapter 1: Chance

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Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes

One: Chance

Toby's high school years were drawing to a close, and he could not say he was sorry to see them go. The 17-year-old boy had been the subject of torment from his peers for as long as he could remember. He had a fiery spirit few people ever saw, since his passion for the fine arts- painting, sketching, writing, composing, and the list went on- had earned him the labels of "freak" and "queer" early on. His status as a social pariah hadn't helped much with getting girlfriends, either, despite being very attractive. The soft blonde hair he'd had as a baby had darkened into the Williams black, and it had grown longer over the years- it brushed his shoulders now, but he prided himself on grooming it well, and it added an air of mystery to him. As did his recent choice of wardrobe, which was mainly black: black sleeveless turtlenecks, black boots, black leather jackets, tight black jeans (all in good taste, of course), and, especially lately, dark sunglasses to hide his eyes. 

Toby frowned at himself in the mirror self-consciously, scrutinizing his image. "They're doing it again," he muttered. "They're changing colors. Why?" He knew from his birth certificate that he had been born with blue eyes. But ever since he was two, his eyes would shift colors without warning, transforming into one icy blue/gray and one hazel brown flecked with green and gold around the edges. The shifts were always temporary, sometimes only lasting a few minutes, others a few days. Sarah always turned away from him during those times, refusing to acknowledge him as her brother and muttering something about him being cursed for life because of her. However, he noticed the changes were becoming more and more frequent, and the last few times he seemed to hear a familiar voice in his mind from long ago saying, "He's got my eyes." But that was only since he got the crystal, or thereabouts, he estimated. Ah, yes, the crystal. The last (thus far) in a line of mysterious gifts he'd been receiving from a sender who seemed to know his interests very well. There had been a set of paints, a sketchbook, a journal, a very rare David Bowie CD (his favorite artist), a pair of black leather rock-climbing gloves that fit him perfectly, and now this. All had been addressed to a "Tobias J. Williams". Tobias was his formal name, but only Sarah called him that anymore, as a teasing, affectionate reminder of his uniqueness. So that seemed to mean him, all right, but he had no clue whatsoever as to what the 'J' stood for. He had even phoned Sarah about it- this sounded like something out of a scene in one of the movies she was filming, even to him, who had always believed in magic (another thing that set him apart from the skeptic kids at school). Especially the note that had come attached to the crystal: _"A sadness so great in one so young, a sense of something lost, and an emptiness that lasts... This crystal does not tell futures, Tobias, nor does it show dreams as once did one very like it- rather, it links to the forgotten past. When you have learned what you desire to know, merely hold it and call. A fair warning, however: this looking glass works both ways."_ Sarah, however, had seemed decidedly perturbed and distant regarding his questions and her vague warnings about the dangers of becoming involved with things he didn't understand were of no help to him at all. He wondered faintly why she was so angry with him for asking about his middle name, and why she had been so adamant that he get rid of the crystal immediately. There was no way around it, then. Like it or not, he was going to have to use it. 

Toby shook his head to clear his thoughts and shoved his dark, expensive designer-label sunglasses back on almost viciously, as if to hide his eyes from himself. "Bad drugs, Toby," he muttered to himself, cupping the thing in his hands. "I wonder how I get answers out of it...hmm. It's under some kind of enchantment, I'll bet. Abracadabra. Hocus pocus," he quipped dryly, joking with seemingly no one. "Say your right words, Toby, and the thing might actually do what it's supposed to. That's what the letter said, anyway. 'Oh magic crystal, I beg of thee, show me the things hidden to me. I seek answers lost in the past, and long for a future within my grasp. Show me these things, tell me more- oh crystal, I implore." He intoned only semi-seriously. Naturally, he got no results. "Maybe I need a pentagram? Or candles?" He deposited the crystal on his bed and went in search of matches. 

An hour and a half later, he had tried everything he could think of regarding magical spells and superstitions, had burned himself with the matches on more than one occasion, and was slowly going blind from staring alternately at flame and crystal in a darkened room, to no avail. The clear ball remained mysteriously blank, and his slightly warped reflection still gazed up at him from its surface. "The only message I'm getting here is that I'm too pale!" He groaned in frustration. "I give up. Whoever sent this stuff is a quack." Toby sighed, rubbing his forehead, brushing stray strands of hair out of his face as he did so. He picked up the crystal and looked ready to throw it. Possibly out the window, possibly at something breakable in the room. "I wish this damn thing would work- right now!" He yelled, pulling his arm back for the throw- and stopping dead mid-way. The 'damn thing' was flickering like a charged static lightning storm and swirling gray like a tornado. "Yaah! It actually works?" He yelped, almost dropping it in his surprise. "What'd I say? Well, I guess that doesn't matter now, does it? Wh- who sent you to me?" He asked cautiously, his hesitation bordering on fear. The storm inside the crystal cleared in the center- the eye of the tornado- to reveal a face. And such a face! In all their wildest dreams, the great master artists collectively, all who had ever lived, could never come remotely close to depicting the being Toby saw before him. He himself could only attempt to describe the face, to make sense of such a phantasmagoric, haunting countenance. Slightly androgynous, but definitely masculine- in this world he'd do well as a rock star, Toby thought, realizing he'd already ruled out the face belonging to anyone so mundane as to live in the mortal realm. Sharply, delicately chiseled features- regal chin and high, noble cheekbones- Toby sensed their owner was not used to bowing or showing humility of any sort, as he traced a hand along his own features and felt that his face must have been very clumsily carved in comparison. Moon-pale complexion, with its own incandescence radiating a harsh, unearthly luminescence- starlight on lepers' skin. Upswept eyebrows and cruel eyes, devoid, for the moment, of other emotion, although he did not doubt their capabilities to express a barrage. A slightly smirking wicked twist of lips shaped a mesmerizing mouth; raven dark eyelashes. Long, blond will-o-the-wisp hair of varying lengths; in fact, it was longer than his, and done in a style that would have been ridiculed anywhere but L.A., but which somehow suited the image projected by the face. A sense of danger pervading throughout. But, truthfully, what captured Toby the most about the pale, regal face were the eyes- one spoke of frozen icebergs, tundra devoid of life; the other recalled a warm enchanted forest. Two contrasting colors, each seeming to contradict the personality the other reflected... Toby knew those eyes all too well- they were just like his own, when they went through their freakish metamorphosis. For a moment, staring into those pools of depth, he had a disconcerting sensation of vertigo- was he inside the crystal or out of it?- but it quickly passed as he remembered he was only looking at an image, magically conjured and incredibly realistic though it be. Toby recalled the words of the letter- "This looking glass works both ways..." but forced them to the back of his mind, as they were confusing and strange, slightly unsettling words. "Whatever," he muttered, wondering silently: _Who are you? Where do you come from? Why do I feel connected to you somehow? _He asked none of these questions, however. Instead, he said, rather densely, "What's the David Bowie look-alike got to do with anything?" Then he smacked himself, silently noting that that had to have been one of the most stupid things ever to come from his mouth, and corrected: "Open mouth, insert foot. What I meant to say, before all my brain cells disappeared, was 'How is your master linked to events in the past that I wish to know about?" The crystal showed a black, leather-bound book with golden clasp and a single word title gilt in silver- "Labyrinth". 

"Good God, Labyrinth? I grew up on that book! Incredibly fantastic, yet more realistic at times than my so-called life," Toby said out loud, seeing the picture. He had rented it from the library so many times it was practically his anyway, although it hardly looked like the one shown. Sarah, on the other hand, had a habit of turning visibly pale and excusing herself to leave whenever he mentioned it, particularly when he confessed to a deeply repressed yet inexplicably strong empathy for the Goblin King, which seemed to further alienate him from both his sister and her thus-termed "side of good". So in general he refrained from bringing up the subject. He frowned now, wondering how his favorite book related to the stranger, yet not stranger, he had just seen. The crystal was not finished, however. The image melded to a motion picture of himself prying up a floorboard in his- formerly Sarah's- room, and finding an old book identical to the one in the picture, not the one he so frequently borrowed from the public library. A close-up shot of the book showed it was well-worn from use, and had the name "Sarah Williams" inscribed inside the front cover. "No way!" He shook his head in disbelief. "If Sarah used to own a copy, why didn't she tell me? Why keep it hidden and act not only like she's never read 'Labyrinth', but that she hates it?" Finding no answers to satisfy him, only more questions, Toby decided to do what the crystal seemed to be implying, and got down on his hands and knees, searching for loose floorboards.

"I found it!" Toby shouted triumphantly, when at last his hand touched something dusty and leathery under a floorboard that had been no more loose from the floor than his teeth from his mouth, and without the aid of a crowbar he doubted he would have tried lifting it. That was probably no accident, he thought now, a bit sourly, as he got a firm grip on the thing and tugged. The book slid free with one last almighty jerk, knocking Toby onto his back with it. He lost his grip on the crowbar, and the wooden board slammed decisively back into place with a loud crack. "Geez, Sarah, do ya think you could hide your stuff any harder next time?" He groaned sarcastically, rubbing a sore neck with one hand. "Honestly," he remarked, picking up the book a bit roughly and undoing its gold clasp, "I hardly think this was worth the troub-" the words were cut off abruptly. A piece of paper that didn't look like part of the book had fallen from inside its back cover. "What's this? Some kind of journal paper?" He wondered, turning it over in his hands as he unfolded it. The ink was old, faded, and a bit smudged in places where drops of water had hit the paper- _or had they been tears_, he mused silently. Yet he definitely recognized the tight, stylized cross between cursive and print as being distinctively his sister's. Intrigued, he sat back on his heels and began to read: "Even as I write this, it all sounds so surreal, and it would surely seem madness to any who only heard it from me without experiencing it, but the memories burn still- all my friends and all the struggles I faced to gain back that which I so carelessly wished away, but most of all, him. His voice, his gaze, his touch, his smile, his cruelty, his cold laughter, his mockery, his seduction and his mind games- all were more real than the nightmare 'reality' I now face. How could I have been so blind? But before reason and emotion desert me entirely, I will make my confession: The Labyrinth is real. I fought my way through it to the castle beyond the Goblin City, just like the book, but the ending was so drastically different! Unlike the book's triumphant heroine, in winning back what was stolen, I lost to it's King, and my soul has been the price. Yet I fear that I will lose the only thing now dear to me- Toby- if he ever finds out. For, if Toby somehow remembers, he might not forgive me for my actions, or worse yet... I might lose him again to J. -forever..." Toby closed his eyes, the paper fluttering to the ground from his fingers as he struggled to make sense of all his sibling had written. "More secrets, Sarah?" He sighed, shaking his head in bewilderment. "Labyrinth? Real? It would explain so much, but... I guess it's back to crystal gazing." He turned yet again to the flickering orb, about to pose his question, when he saw there was no need. Now images and accompanying dialogue were appearing- images of a teenage Sarah, and if he had to venture a guess he'd say she looked somewhere around 15. _Which would place me at- what, one? Two? So then, the babe with her must be me. But- wait! What is she saying? And that looks like- it's him! It's the master of the crystal! So, it's all true, then- he must be the Goblin King, and Sarah- wished me away..._ Recognizing in himself the shock and numbness that preceded a downward spiral into despair and depression, Toby knew he should turn away before he found himself caught again in the drowning whirlpool of emotions that had very nearly killed him during high school, yet found he could not bring himself to look away from the events unfolding before him: Sarah- with all her heart wishing he be taken by the goblins. Sarah- dancing, in the Goblin King's embrace, all thought of her baby half-brother erased. Sarah- being offered her dreams by the King, and only at the last, internally conflicted, remembering her duty to reclaim him. The Sarah who had been his anchor throughout his tormented social ostracism and familial isolation... that same had rejected him, after all. _So, her kindness toward me all these years has been the effect of a guilt-ridden conscience, and the once person I cared for- truly loved- in my life does not care any more for me than her deep-seated self-blame allows..._

The images now before him seemed more real, since, he reasoned, they had directly involved him. He was in the King's throne room, being sung to and played with- the Goblins' ruler seemed to have a genuine affection for him. _More than I can say for my sister,_ he thought, past bitterness, tumbling down through pain, finally crashing and burning in a sense of overwhelming loss and hopelessness. "Sarah- oh, God... why did you toy with me like this?" He was gripped by a desire to find a place where betrayal couldn't touch him and he wouldn't have to ever think or feel again. Toby stumbled toward the bathroom, praying to whatever powers took pity on his mockery of an existence that his search would not be in vain.

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"So, I think the picture is worth the risk, but we really need to jump on the offer if-" Sarah Williams trailed off at her booking agent, publicity representative and friend's response- or, rather, lack thereof. Her elder by many years, Tara McKenzie was in one of her trances again. Of pureblood Irish stock, she had the Sight- it had been in her family for generations, and by now Sarah was used to seeing her eyes glaze over, body stiff as it was when Tara Saw something of import. Sarah kept her silence as Tara passed her hand in front of her face, seemingly warding off a disturbing vision. She paused, waiting for Tara to break the silence. The elder's gaze fixed on Sarah, and there was a concern lining her eyes that unnerved the actress. 

"It's your brother, child." 

"Toby?" Sarah questioned, not understanding the look that clouded Tara's normally sunny features. "Has he gotten himself into trouble at school again?" She sighed and pursed her lips, silently reprimanding herself for neglecting the boy as of late. Tara shook her head. 

"I know not this 'Labyrinth' of yours, but it has injured him gravely, and e'en now he is in peril of his life because of the past... in which you are deeply involved, are you not?" Sarah nodded minutely, forced to acknowledge a piece of her past she had hoped to put permanently behind her, as she struggled to keep a mask of calm while listening. 

"If you leave not at once, you arrive too late to save him. Yet, your part is not to deflect physical harm, but to prevent far worse."

"I'll- get my Ferrari! But what about-" Tara held up a finger, pointing to herself.  
"I'll deal with the publicity hounds. You, go." The woman smiled wanly, watching Sarah race to her car. Sarah had never questioned Tara's insight or visions before- they had always been chillingly accurate, and she did not question now. Instead, she was filled with dread and fear for Toby's well-being, and a white-hot, all-consuming rage toward the one who still ruined her life, as the pieces of Toby's recent unusual behavior fell into place. _Oh, my priceless Toby, you must forgive me for my hostility- I can see now how distant I must have seemed, but believe me, I only meant to prevent this from happening- again... _The memories seeped back to her through time, and she recalled someone telling her once that your mind was not your friend. _Though I highly doubt this_ _was what they meant_, she thought cynically. Tearing up asphalt, Sarah reached for words once spoken by Hoggle after he had given her Jareth's drugged peach, yet still so fitting to the situation at hand: "Damn you, Jareth- and damn me, too..."

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Toby sank onto his knees, hands on the floor in front of him, feeling weak, as he waited for oblivion to claim him. The metal razor's deadly kiss had done its work, and already the edges of his vision were beginning to blur. Yet in his mind he heard a voice as his life slowly dripped onto the carpet, a song: "Your eyes can be so cruel/Just as I can be so cruel/But I believe in you/Yes, I do." _Believe in me?_ Toby thought ironically through the haze that was encroaching upon him. _Who's ever done that? All my teachers felt I could be summed up in a few phrases: "antisocial, unhealthily introverted, maladjusted, attitude problem." No one ever got close enough to understand me at all..._ The voice again, so familiar- "I think I'll name him Jareth. He's got my eyes." _JARETH!_ Everything came together in a sledgehammer of an epiphany that hit Toby on the head almost too late. The Goblin King- his own elusive middle name- his past- his eyes... His knees gave out, then, and his head hit the floor with force. He groped for the only thing capable of saving him now as another of Jareth's songs echoed in his mind: "As the pain sweeps through/Makes no sense for you/Every thrill has gone/Wasn't too much fun at all/But I'll be there for you/As the world falls down..." _Well, my world certainly is- falling down. I can only hope he'll- really be there. _He recalled the words of the letter he had received- was it really that same day?- "When you have learned what you desire- call- works both ways..." Then, it stood to reason, if he could see and hear things the King wished to send him, could He not see and hear Toby as well? Toby's fingers stretched farther- farther, until they brushed against a smooth, cold, round object. "Jareth..." he whispered, the name dying on his lips as, mercifully, darkness came.


	3. Chapter 2: Destiny

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Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes

Two: Destiny

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Cover the madness/Cover the fear/No one will ever/Know you were here//A figure in the hallway light/Returning like a ghost/Something that was left behind/Something in a child's mind//A picture worth a thousand lies/A thousand words/A thousand eyes//Bury my lovely/Hide in your room/Bury my lovely/Forget me soon/Forget me/Forget me now/Forget me not//

The night swirled about him, enfolding him as the only cloak he wore while the shadows twisted and writhed in dances macabre and profane, mingling with the creatures humans oft-termed "things that go bump in the night". The darkness held no trepidation for one of its own, and he was a child of darkness- just as his minions were spawned from fear and shadow. They rarely took a form of much substance, unless that form were what adults condescendingly passed off as nightmares and children refused to name even with all the lights turned on and others surrounding them. The children were wiser, with an instinctual knowledge of the power of true names instilled in them, yet their visions of distorted dwarves and beasts weren't remotely close to brushing the surface of the terror and reality of the instruments of madness he had somehow come to possess. There was a saying he was rather fond of quoting, considering he had been the inspiration for the mortal writer's caution, and he repeated it in his mind now: _He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you._ Sarah had done the former; the boy, Toby, had done the latter, and it had nearly cost him his life. He slept now- a simple enchantment had seen to that, but the healing magics had left Jareth far more drained...and he could heal only body, not restore Toby's broken soul. For this was not the first time the boy had exercised self-mutilation as a way of regaining control of his life, though it was- thankfully- the only serious suicide attempt. _He once considered me,_ he thought with more than a hint of bitter irony, _his "guardian angel". When, after taking his loathing and inner darkness out on himself, he would wake from a night of dreaming of me to discover his wounds gone. Perhaps he believed a higher being had a purpose for his life...until now._

The Goblin King allowed himself the luxury of taking in the sight of the young mortal who had called him away from his realm, back to the very room where the boy's sister had done the same fifteen years ago. Toby wore a long red silk shirt, unbuttoned to show a pale, slender, chiseled body built for agility rather than bulk. On his dexterous hands were rock-climbing gear black leather gloves, the kind without fingers. His lower body was clad in tight black jeans and black army-style steel-toed boots. His hair was tied back from his face with a strip of black leather, but a few elusive strands had fallen, framing his face. Dark sunglasses unnecessarily obscured his eyes, though they lay askew on his face from the impact of his fall. Jareth removed them now, placing them atop his own forehead. They suited his contemporary choice of clothes, and it was crucial that he remain able to see whether the boy had the devil's eyes, as he did; his night vision being far superior to a mortal's, the room was well-lit to him. Toby's chest rose and fell in the pattern of deep sleep, and though he doubtless dreamt, he gave no sign of what his dreams entailed. 

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Who is in your dreams, I wonder? _Is it me? Is it her? She comes now, I sense it. Sparks will fly concerning you, perhaps even before you wake. You needn't worry, however. Your destiny was written long ago, and it cannot be changed now. Not a goblin, no- but you will become one of us, and you will do so willingly. However, I shall wait until the audience arrives for the show to begin. I never play to an empty house. _Jareth had made an effort to dilute the oppressive, almost suffocating aura of the boy's distress, and in covering that atmosphere he had toned down his own distinctly ethereal signature as well. Hardly anything was amiss, and the only evidence that something terribly wrong had occurred was soaking into the carpet, for Toby's wrists had- thanks to arcane intervention- healed, and the cuts were now merely scars. Jareth took them in his hands, and as he stroked the wounds with his thumbs, shaking his head, he murmured, "Such a pity."

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Sarah slammed on the brakes the moment the Ferrari hit the driveway, practically leaping out of the car, still remembering to lock it behind her- she knew her old neighborhood too well to leave it. The front door would be locked. It was pointless trying to open it, and she knew Toby wouldn't answer the bell, even if nothing had happened- but the emergency key might still be under the front mat. Sarah cursed under her breath when she found nothing there, as well as side and back porch doors locked. _Toby may be a latch-key kid, but he's not stupid! And from the looks of things, he's home alone. But he has my old room... I could climb the tree and unlock the window like I used to when I snuck out as a teen- ah, desperate times, as they say. Well, there's no stunt double to fill in for you this time, Sarah Williams- I wish to God I hadn't developed that fear of heights after the Escher- well, anyway. _She would have stopped and climbed back down at many points during her shimmy up the tree and in the window had not the thought of Toby in danger, needing her, spurred her onward. Eventually, however, Sarah made it into her former room and collapsed in a relieved, adrenaline-charged heap on the floor. The night-filled room was lit only by six or so candles that were already more than halfway melted, so in her disoriented state combined with the room's shadows, she can be forgiven for neglecting to notice the figure leaning, gracefully casual, against the wall opposite from her ere he spoke. 

"Breaking and entering into your own home?" Wry amusement dripped from the elegant masculine voice suddenly invading the silence. "I must admit I'm appalled," the voice drawled in a silky way that sounded anything but. "Sarah, Sarah." A sigh. That condescending, bitter-sweet poison-honeyed way he said her name struck a painfully responsive chord within her.   
"You! How dare you set foot in this house?" Her voice lacked the passion she needed to pull off the exclamation.

"I have been summoned here," he replied, slightly smirking at her sheer astonishment. The shadows gave him the advantage- all she could see was his body's dark, hazy outline, but her face was made the more real of the two, illuminated by starlight filtering in through the window. "It is my right." He told her nothing she didn't already know. As Sarah's eyes adjusted to the dark, she noticed Toby lying in the center of a ring of candles, obviously unconscious. 

"Is that blood? You mother-fucking bastard, I swear if you did this to him, I'll-" she began, but he cut her off with his haughty laugh. 

"Such unladylike language." The Goblin King extended a long, leather-clad finger to his cheek and tapped it, seemingly studying something. He cocked his head at her. "I wonder if that Marc boy you've been dating taught you that..." He put a slight emphasis on 'boy'. 

"You know his name?" She squeaked incredulously. He continued smoothly as if there had been no interruption. 

"Considering your status-quo, I'd say he's hardly your equal."

"That's not true! And who are you to say whether or not he's sub-standard?" She shot back defensively, far too late to be sincere.

"Because, my dear, I know exactly whom your basis for comparison is," he said lightly, then grew serious, holding her gaze. "You cannot lie to me, Sarah, not anymore. Your basis is me." She broke away from his intense gaze, heat burning in her cheeks.

"So maybe Marc isn't the most handsome man in the world," she conceded reluctantly. "And he doesn't have 'sex appeal'-" he grinned wickedly at the implications of that comment, "-or an air of mystery and enchantment and danger and seduction cloaking him that overwhelms your senses every time he's near. But...he's organized," she reasoned lamely. Jareth barely stifled his laughter with a half-hearted attempt at a dignified cough. "And he's...kind and gentle, and he loves children!" She glared daggers at him in her best actress look of offense. He merely artfully raised a delicately upswept eyebrow at her, not flinching under the attempted attack, and commented, "and he loves the act involved in making them as well, no doubt," not bothering to cover the barb in his tone. Her eyes narrowed at him, and she unleashed the culmination of her tirade.

"He holds me and my boundaries in the utmost respect!" She flung the word at him like a weapon. He stepped out of the darkness into the circle now, and the candles flared with a blue inferno, illuminating his face. Startled by the angry demonstration of his normally concealed emotions, her eyes connected immediately with his, and the dark persuasion in them drew her in. She found her resistance fading, losing herself... Sarah's self-defense mechanisms belatedly kicked in. "You can't do this to me-" she murmured, trying to snap out of his spell. Both of them knew it for the lie it was. "Stop-" she pleaded, her eyes betraying her lips. 

"You don't want me to." He amusedly voiced what she hadn't dared. She looked appropriately outraged, and opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a gloved hand. "Enough. This dance has been done before in all its many variations, and I am not one to repeat myself. You will say to me, 'My will is as strong as yours.' I will ask, 'Is that so?' And when you find you cannot force yourself to say what you feel you should, you will accuse me of putting you under an enchantment." He walked through the chessboard-like scene as his fingers pointed and spun the dance almost of their own accord. "What you unfailingly lack the insight to realize, however, is this: Even were I using an enchantment on you, which as I've told you would be reiterate and thus hardly my style, the glamourie can only work if the subject desires it to on some level. Do you understand?" He asked her, that same cool emotional detachment ringing with an underscored intensity. His features were a mask before he smirked slightly, voice quietly mocking, "You could have been the greatest among mortals." Sarah was flooded with a maelstrom of emotions, and as the repressed feelings swept over her, a car slowly circled around the cul-de-sac, speakers blaring from open windows: "And I'm trying to convince myself that the way I feel is all I have/I don't believe in sure things/There's pain in what the truth brings..." She started crying silently from regret and longing. Outside, it poured.   
"Perhaps mortal musicians aren't quite as incompetent as I initially thought," Jareth mused, watching Sarah's tears cease as she realized there was no one there to dry them. There was a time, perhaps, when he would have taken her in his arms and comforted her, but if he still retained any inclination toward doing so, it was not present in him tonight. Her gaze flickered to her brother, then back to Jareth, and she was as defiant as ever of his icy cruelty. 

"And what of these words? 'The Goblin King had fallen in love with the girl...'" He threw back his head and laughed, baring pointed teeth, hands on slender hips. 

"How- romantic," he observed sarcastically, sneering the word as if it were something distasteful. "The darkness falling in love with the light. Do you take me for a fool, Sarah? As one of your own so eloquently penned it, 'of all weapons, love is the most deadly and devastating, and few there be who thrust their fate in its hands.' I never denied being cruel, but you... still, you understand so little." He looked at her with an overwhelming pity that, though contrived, formed a growing lump in her throat. Determined to rid herself of it, she shook her head vigorously. 

"I defeated you." She objected flatly. "You have no power here. Give me back the child!" 

"No, Sarah. Have you forgotten your own words so soon? You lost. Can't you see that? You lost when you rejected my offer to show you your dreams. You lost when you mocked my Labyrinth and my power, and paid dearly with time. You lost when you denied your feelings and destroyed your own fantasy; you lost yet again when you defied me and threw away those very dreams in your 'Escher Room'. You think even now that those were the times you 'won', I see it in your eyes, but you are wrong. For had you looked into your dreams but one of those times, you would have seen that I was there. You desired me then, Sarah, and still do, although you would wish it otherwise and have hidden your desire ever since. I gave you back the child, and in that you were allowed to 'win'. However, you remained unwilling to admit to yourself or understand that nothing that passed between us was ever truly about the boy, and so Toby is mine. I am merely here to reclaim him," he said coolly. 

"And why would you want him?" Sarah practically spat. 

"Because this world does not," Jareth replied, a deadly controlled anger in his voice and face that made Sarah tremble. "It is obvious that he has been rejected because of his talents and cannot deal with his pain." He indicated the unconscious figure on the floor. "He would do far better to learn from what I can teach him, and become as I am. Nevertheless, I will show you my generosity in this- let Tobias decide if he will accept his destiny." His eyes glittered with an unspoken assurance, some knowledge that made Sarah wary to agree. She never got that chance, however. For by some quirk or twist of fate, it was at that particular moment that the teenager in question stirred, weakly pushed himself into a sitting position, and cracked open a cold azure eye. 


	4. Chapter 3: Choice

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Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes

Three: Choice

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Bury my lovely/Bury the lies/Bury me under/A thousand goodbyes//A shadow from another time/Is waiting in the night/Something happened long ago/Something that will not let go//Bury my lovely/Hide in your room/Bury my lovely/Forget me soon/Forget me/Forget me now/Forget me not

"Urgh," Toby groaned unenthusiastically, putting a hand to his forehead. "Everything's spinning. Am I still alive, or is hell migraines and nausea?" 

"So Lazarus finally arises from the dead, given a chance for a new life. I wonder- will he take it, or does he prefer his tomb?" Jareth mused philosophically, stoically regarding Toby's futile attempts at clambering to his feet and final resignation to remain sitting.

"Even the devil can cite Scripture for his purpose," Sarah returned scornfully, causing Toby to snap his gaze onto her face, hardly startled.   
"Sarah. What business could you possibly have here?" His tone had a slightly steely quality, but he directed the question to her almost disinterestedly. She could only absorb him with her eyes for a long moment, mouth open, lips moving silently, as she struggled to find her voice.

"Oh, Toby... so scared... I was so scared I'd come too late-" Tears slipped from her eyes, making tiny rivulets down her cheeks.

"You have." She recoiled, stung by his cruel words. His coldness reminded her of Jareth, and the similarity frightened her. 

"Why do you hurt me like this? You're my brother, and I love you! What have I done to make you despise me so, Toby?"

"I don't hate you, Sarah, and that's what kills. But my love is poison- my love ruins everything... Don't deny it. Look at our family, Sarah. Have you taken a good look lately? Or have you been too busy trying to run from it with your celebrity status and career- reality was always too painful, wasn't it? Well, I couldn't run, and there is no family. It's destroyed, and it's all because of me. I was never what they wanted me to be; all their arguments were over me. When things got worse- I could have stopped it, but I didn't. But it even goes back before that- that's why he's here. I ruined your life even then, and that's what started it all. His hand has been on my life ever since, and he is dark, so I never stood a chance at being light like everyone wanted. In fact, after the Labyrinth, I've always preferred the dark." He smiled cynically, quelling her before she began with a gesture.

"Ah, but I digress. None of that matters now. It was fated to end up this way. I see that, and I also realize that deep down, I'm incapable of changing who I am or how I've been molded, and that's why the only thing for me to do is leave so no one else will be damaged or endangered. I've hurt enough people already. But you..." He turned slowly to Jareth, who had been calmly observing Toby's epiphanies with the corner of his mouth upturned just the slightest bit. "This is all one big mind-fuck to you, isn't it?" He asked sadly. "My life yours, to do with as you see fit... I've never been my own. It's thanks to you that I've never fit in- you manipulated me into trying to kill myself! You even put your damn signature on me, for crying out loud..." He angrily pointed to his eyes, falling into silence as Jareth traced gloved fingers along the contours of his face, ending by trailing his index finger across his lips in a slow, deliberate movement. 

"So passionate...yet so wrong. You accuse me of omnipotence, forgetting to take into account your own free will, which, by the way, you had all along. I will not deny my influence on your life, nor my lack of what you term 'light'. But you, as so many others before you, blur the distinction between darkness and despair, darkness and pain. I become excruciatingly tired of so-called 'goth' teenagers and their morbid obsession with death. I never encouraged your masochism- in fact, I saved you from yourself without your knowing on too many occasions to recall. Do you have a destiny? Yes. However, your decisions affect whether or not you ever find that destiny. Most mortals spend their entire lives trying to find it, but I offer yours to you. All you need do is accept." 

"Don't listen to him, Toby!" Sarah pleaded. "I don't want to lose you!" He saw the sincerity in his step-sister's eyes and the love she offered- a love he'd never seen in her before. He left it in her eyes. Some things were too pure to mar with his touch.

"I should hate you. But I can't, because I'm exactly like you. You've seen to that. I am your revenge on her...and I feel absolutely nothing. Not betrayed, not angry, not resigned, not even empty...just numb."

"That is your first lesson," the Goblin King said softly, regarding the boy with faint approval. "You are learning to embrace the darkness inside yourself, rather than allow it to consume you as you did previously. I can teach you how to harness the power you possess- to create, shape, mold and change with it. Oh, yes, you have magic- never doubt that. How do you think your creative genius is unparalleled for one so young, that when you play music you create with your melodies? How about your ability to stand out or blend in from the crowd? You long for magic with every fiber of your being, so much that your reality is made wretched for its absence. You hurt, you hate, you are full of anger: anger at yourself, anger at your parents, anger at the world. I know you are bitter and jaded about this world. You became a loner because you craved something better, something more. It was the call of magic raging in your blood. Your place has never been among mortals, Tobias. You were meant for more. Do you want an end to your pain? Do you want to stop hurting the ones you love? There is power and greatness beyond your wildest dreams, and it is yours for the taking, if you will only let me show you how to make it yours. The Dark Court recognizes talent such as yours, Tobias... you need not fight yourself any longer." His rich voice held no sardonic edge for a change. Mere inches away from Jareth's body, Toby felt the heat of the other radiating against him, and found silent tears escaping him against his will.

"You were always in my dreams, you know. No fairy tale candy-dreams for me- no, nothing so innocent or sweet. It was always you."

"You can say no, Toby," Sarah whispered, her eyes shining with moisture. "You can come back to me- back to a life with a sister who loves you. I promise to make your pain up to you somehow..." Jareth watched Toby's inner turmoil reflected in the turbulence of shifting colors in his eyes. First they were blue, then mismatched, then blue again... Toby caught on to the penetrating gaze focused on him, and with one fluid movement reached up, took his glasses from his namesake's head and repositioned them over his eyes, effectively hiding whatever decision he'd come to. He spoke soothingly to Sarah.

"You're absolutely right, of course. I only have a month until graduation, and education is everything. Surely all this can wait that long. Why don't you go down and get the car started? I'll pack my things, bid the Goblin King goodbye, and stay with you at your hotel tonight. We can catch up on everything then." Toby smiled reassuringly as she climbed back out the window, keeping it plastered on his face until she was gone. He cast a glance back at Jareth. 

"Very well. This will not be the last time we meet. I will seek you out again in a month's time, and if you keep my gift, we may remain in contact still." The boy merely indicated a bulge in his pocket with his finger. 

"I get it now. The importance of the color of my eyes is that they reflect who I am." He lifted his sunglasses up. "So you don't forget who it is you're coming for," he explained, smirking at Jareth as the latter changed into his snowy owl form in a puff of glitter and smoke. He watched from the window with a curious, unreadable expression on his face as the owl flew away and vanished from sight.


	5. Epilogue

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Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes

Epilogue

The roses are dying. Can you feel them?

She feels them. Down to the very core of her being, she feels. She wants to howl her loss to the heavens, but her cries would fall on deaf ears. And all her tears were used a long time ago, anyway, so now all she feels is numb. She is in a meeting in a conference room somewhere, off some Hollywood set, where she should be paying to some famous director explain the plot of the movie she'll be working on, but all she can focus on is the past... She backtracks in her mind. 

It is the day of Toby's graduation, and the sky is an unmercifully clear, cloudless blue. How ironic, that the two most pivotal days of her life should contrast each other so, and yet be so much the same. There are no birds in the sky, and definitely no Goblin Kings. The choir is singing the alma mater, and the valedictorian is giving his speech. The baby next to her is crying. The principal starts to call names. The wait seems interminable. Her chair is uncomfortable. He's only on "H"? What's taking him so long? 

She searches her memory. What happens next isn't important. Fast forward. 

She stares at the shoes of the graduating class. Heels, sandals, dress shoes, sneakers, and black steel-toed boots. Wait a minute- black steel-toed boots? She looks up and catches Toby's eye. He waves in her direction. She groans about the shoes. She shifts in her chair and pretends to read the program, all the while searching the crowd for a familiar face. Not an ethereally pale face in sight, only sweating parents and siblings. He stands up and gets in line to receive his empty diploma case. The actual certificates were already mailed to the house weeks ago, making the ceremony unnecessary, but she had insisted he end the year properly. He smiles for the camera, a senior graduating with honors. She watches as he accepts his diploma, finally able to relax. He's gotten through the ceremony with no glitches. She smiles. Something glinting in the light of the sun rolls off the stage and shatters on the ground. What was that? Probably some senior's illegal vodka glass. The last name is called, and the class throws their caps up into the air. She snaps another picture, and the stage erupts into good-natured mayhem as the newly dubbed adults rush back to their families and friends, hugging and crying and smiling and laughing. She searches for Toby in the wave of teenage adrenaline advancing on her. A loud car engine catches her ear, sounding as if it had just pulled up. She spots her half-brother by the parking lot, ripping off his stifling graduation robe with gusto. He throws a hand up to shield his eyes as he squints, looking around, and spots her. She comes over to him, throwing an arm around him. He seems tense and quiet. She asks him what he plans to do about college, and if he'll choose something local. He merely responds with a distracted apology along the lines of "I'm sorry, but you know I can't stay here." An expensive red convertible pulls up to them, blaring a pulsing dance beat. The driver's long ponytail whips in the wind, and dark sunglasses veil his face. She doesn't recognize him. 

"A friend of yours, Toby?" 

"Something like that." 

The driver's voice carries over the music, though he isn't yelling. "You called me?" His lips curl into something of a smirk, and suddenly, his identity unveils itself to her and all she can hear is the music's bass line pounding in synch with her blood and the words to the music are becoming clearer and now she hears, all too clearly, "Welcome to the courts/ Of the Goblin King..." and her brother is saying "I wondered when you were going to show up," and he's climbing into the car now and he turns back to face her one last time and his eyes are chillingly, mind-numbingly ice blue and he winks at her and blows her a kiss and he's not her brother anymore and the driver with the glittering mismatched eyes is shaking his head and murmuring, "You never understood... Such a pity it couldn't have ended another way..." as he's tossing his sunglasses off with one fluid movement and the car speeds off and the sunglasses crunch under the tires and all she can do is stand there, speechless, as her world falls down for what she is certain will be the last time. The sun is shining. 

Author's note: This seemed like a good place to end the piece, so if the reader is satisfied with this ending, stop here and review. However, for those of you who dislike the neatly tied up ending, here's a bit more of an open-ended finish:

She tries to convince herself now that that day was all one schizophrenic episode, but she knows in her heart that she can't. She repeats her mantra to herself, the next best thing, that she is numb and she doesn't feel anything. Nothing matters anymore- the only person to whom she could plead for her brother and her life back doesn't even care enough to torment her now. He's had his ultimate revenge, and lyrics echo in her head- _Cut my life into pieces/ This is my last resort..._ She certainly wonders if she's still breathing. She tries to focus on her manager. She is being introduced to her costar for the picture. "His name is Gareth- Gareth Cyning. It's an Old World name...means "king", if memory serves..." _Oh, God..._

~End~


End file.
